


The Glitz

by tevlek



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Burlesque, I don't know what I'm doing, M/M, fan dance, striptease
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:00:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28941852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tevlek/pseuds/tevlek
Summary: Seely (@SeelApproved on Twitter) drew a wonderful picture of Angel Dust doing a Burlesque Fan Dance on Discord and this is what popped into my head.Rating is more for safety than anything else.
Relationships: Angel Dust/Husk (Hazbin Hotel)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 43





	The Glitz

**Author's Note:**

> This story is just a one-shot inspired by a beautiful picture. I threw some head canons I have in there but other then that the characters are probably not going to sound like themselves at all. I have very little confidence in writing for Angel Dust and Husk in a more canon-based universe so posting this is making me very nervous...  
> I also don't claim to have any in depth knowledge of Burlesque, Casinos or anything canon in HH. I'm just a girl writing a fanfic.  
> Please be gentle.

Husk landed in front of The Glitz with a sigh, glancing up at the glittering sign mounted in the center of the seven story building with blinking lights in small star-like clusters atop the G and at the tail of the Z. It was a swankier joint than his usual haunt but it was meant for the same business. Gambling. The Glitz was a high end casino on the east end of Pentagram City, a spot more frequented by the wealthier wayward souls and Overlords. Even royalty was known to stop there every now and then. Husk had played there a few times in the past four decades but he never felt completely at ease inside. Sure, he liked the finer things, good booze and bigger bets, all perfectly acceptable every now and then. Who doesn’t? That didn’t mean he was itching to become a regular there.

He stretched his wings, arching his back and pressing his fists into it and grunted through the cracks and pops. Man, he really hadn’t flown in a while and it fucking showed! He thought he heard at least three vertebrae clicking back into place that time and his muscles already ached from the effort of using his typically stationary wings. He shook them out one more time, extending and then folding them close to his back as a valet glanced up at him from his stand beside the main entrance. The imp glanced around his general vicinity for some sign of a vehicle. Clearly they hadn’t been paying attention to comings and goings for some time now. He caught a glimpse of a phone being slipped into the imp’s back pocket. 

Of course. 

“I didn’t drive here.” He called over, adjusting his tie and checking that the points of his collar were still smoothed down. Nifty had starched them when she learned he was going to be wearing this shirt. It was unnecessary but she insisted and Husk always had a hard time telling her no when it came to anything. She had been excited by the prospect of freshening up some of his old clothes. It had been a while since he had worn anything at all outside of his favorite hat and a habitual bowtie that was more routine than anything by now. He normally skipped the clothes but the guys insisted he actually get dressed before joining them tonight. Just for the sake of appearance more than actual modesty on their part. They were all part of the “no pants crowd” any other day of the week, just like him. However, The Glitz was a nice place. Might as well make an effort and show a little respect for that. 

The imp scurried out from his podium to the front entrance and hauled open one of the double doors as Husk climbed the handful of steps. Reaching into his trouser pocket, he tossed the imp a coin that they caught before he stepped inside. He passed through the lobby of the hotel portion of The Glitz, passing others meandering through the joint until he stepped through one of the four sets of open doors straight across to the actual beating heart of the establishment. The minute he crossed the threshold into the casino, he was greeted by the music of a thousand bells and whistles and the murmur of voices both exuberant and outraged ringing all together at once. 

It sounded like home. 

He tucked his hands into his pockets, scanning past the rows and rows of electronic monstrosities that were the slot machines and focusing on the more familiar side of the massive room that was dedicated to cards. A game of blackjack was fully seated while several of the poker tables were looking a little sparse but the main craps table was cluttered with souls clambering to watch who the next big better would be. Demons with trays weaved their way through the guests, tables and machines alike, offering cigarettes, cigars, taking drink orders, whatever it took to keep the players playing and the money flowing. 

“Hey, Husk!” a hoarse voice called over the din and his ear twitched in the direction of the address. He spotted Reggie extending an arm in a motionless wave to draw his attention before dropping it back down once he was seen. The scraggly hound was leaning against one of the abandoned poker tables, raising a hand in greeting before picking up a cigar from the nearby ashtray and sticking it between his teeth. 

Reggie had been one of the few souls Husk had come to tolerate long enough to regularly play cards with. He had only been around for about twenty years but, like Husk, he died an old man and that immediately made him a fraction more likeable than most of the victims he came across. Unlike him, however, Reggie had no idea what he would be getting into after death that was a result of his life’s work. Not that he ever told him anything about it. They didn’t care about backstories. They just played cards together and you didn’t need to know a guy’s life story to do that. 

Husk joined him at the table but Reggie shook his head when he moved to pull out a seat. He paused with his claws still wrapped around the top of the chair as Reggie nodded his head towards the other end of the room. Husk glanced in the direction indicated and arched an eyebrow when he spotted the entrance to the Diamond Lounge. It was where The Glitz had its smaller, more intimate shows. The other theater, The Final Stage, was reserved for the big budget productions. Just out of curiosity he twisted around to look at the location of the theater’s entrance but the golden doors were roped off with a black sign posted in front reading: “Fuck Off. Show Cancelled.” 

“I thought we were here to play some fucking poker!” Husk shoved the chair back into place while Reggie smiled around his cigar, taking it between two digits and blowing the smoke up towards the ceiling. 

“The guys wanted to check out tonight’s show.” He explained, moving around Husk and gesturing with an arm to lead him towards the lounge. He growled, casting one last glance at the poker table before giving in and following Reggie. “It’s a good one.” 

“It better be,” Husk huffed, glancing at a sheep demon worriedly looking at a coin in their hoof and then the slot machine in front of them. There was an empty cup sitting on the stool beside them and Husk shook his head minutely. He knew that scene all too well. Kid must have pumped too many coins into the machine but never won any of their money back. Down to the last coin, the last chance to get lucky in an otherwise luckless night. “You assholes dragged me out here for some cards, not a show.” 

As they passed the sheep putting his last coin into the machine, Husk tapped his claw against the side of the device just as they pulled on the lever. He felt the flare of magic run through his arm and spark from the sharp tip, leaving behind a glowing pinprick of light on the machine that faded away as he kept walking, sticking his paw back into his pocket and continuing to bitch at Reggie. He only got a little louder when he heard the sound of three distinct clicks and then the triumphant chiming of a jackpot. He almost smiled when he heard the gasp and the choked cry of relief behind him but obliterated it with a scowl and more griping about the waste of one of his nights off. 

They entered through the mirrored doors of the Diamond Lounge to the quiet murmur of voices. It looked like he had arrived just before the show and now the audience was just trying to fill the void until it started up. The lounge itself was large but made intimate with low lighting from silver fanned sconces that spread the light up the wall rather than out into the room. Three small crystal chandeliers dripped from the ceiling across the seating area filled with roughly thirty tables draped in white cloths and surrounded by silver and white chairs. Not a single seat had been left empty and every one of them were angled towards the stage that occupied the back of the room. 

Reggie took him to the right of the entrance where a bar occupied most of the wall running parallel to the stage. It was mostly black marble with silver diamonds evenly spaced along the front, the top crafted from white quartz. A line of silver stools with white leather seats stood in front of it, one of which Husk climbed onto, resting his paw pads on the cool stone of the bar. There were two uniformed bartenders currently working in front of a mirrored wall of liquor on illuminated shelves, each one meticulously shelved and spaced so precisely they probably measured between each bottle at the beginning of every shift. The sight both impressed and irritated him. He kept his own bar tidy, considering it was his only real job at the hotel and it was all he had to do when he wasn’t passed out under the counter but this was just overkill. 

“So, where are they?” 

“Got a table closer to the front.” Reggie was still standing beside another stool. He pointed with the cigar between his digits back towards the audience. 

Husk spun himself around on the stool and looked toward the stage. There had to be at least as dozen tables stationed relatively close to the stage, each of them full with patrons. He scanned over them to pick out the guys, noticing that at first glance, there was a platform where a decently-sized band was collected together. They didn’t have music stands and seemed to be talking amongst themselves while taking sips of drinks or checking their instruments. He noted the brass instruments, a bass, piano, some woodwind…a good selection for jazz or maybe some blues. 

The stage itself was white with silver trim along the edges, illuminated glass diamond shapes set into the woodwork. The curtains were of black velvet studded in crystals that twinkled in the low light. Ropes of crystal orbs hung above the stage, some of them low enough to touch, all of them against the black curtains looking like stars in a pitch black sky, glinting and flashing as they gently swayed in the low murmur of a dozen different conversations. It was pretty, he could admit that. It was also glaringly obvious why they called this place the Diamond Lounge. 

When he checked again, waving arms caught Husk’s eye and he zeroed in on the table full of his poker buddies cheating him out of his favorite pastime. They were all grinning like idiots and excitedly beckoning him to join them at the already crowded table. Bastards. He extended his middle digit and spun back around, putting his back to them. Oh, sure, he would wait it out. He’d sit through whatever this show was and then, once it was over, he would hold nothing back once they made it to the tables. He had been generous with the unfortunate sheep at the slot machines but thanks to these clowns sullying his mood, his already low stash of good will had thoroughly run out. 

“Get me an Old Fashioned.” Husk ordered the nearest bar tender, resting his elbow on the bar and pressing his face into his palm. Reggie finally hauled himself onto a stool, dragging an ashtray over to himself from where it had been sitting near another stool. He rest his cigar against the inside of the tray and ordered himself a bourbon from the other bartender. Husk watched them work, eyes flicking from one to the other while bottles were fetched, garnishes plucked and glasses selected. The bartender made his drink and set it down in front of him without a word, Husk tapping a claw against the quartz before he lowered his paw and cupped it around the waiting glass. “So, what’s the show?” 

Reggie accepted the bourbon with a silent nod and turned around on his stool to face the stage, leaning back so that he could brace his elbows behind himself on the bar. “It’s just a little burlesque number.” Reggie said. “I saw it with a buddy of mine on the first night it opened.” 

“Burlesque?” Husk scoffed. “In this joint?” 

Reggie gave a slight nod. “About eight performers total. They have a few minutes on stage and some pretty generous waits in between each act. Pretty little things, the lot of them and the jokes aren’t too bad but the last act…well, that is certainly worth another look.” He sipped his bourbon and hummed at the taste before resting his elbow back in place. “You came at a good time. One of the acts just ended before I went out to look for you.” 

“How many performers left?” 

“Just one.” Reggie smirked. 

“Only one?” Husk grinned at the first bit of good news he had all night. “Well, shit. This won’t take long at all!” 

“Then you’ve got nothing to bitch about.” 

Husk raised his glass in a mock salute as Reggie chuckled, sticking his cigar back between his teeth as the lights started to dim, signaling the show was about to start again. All attention returned to the stage in that moment. A hush fell over the onlookers as the doors to the lounge swung shut, cutting out the din from the casino and trapping the occupants in darkened silence. The lights remained on near the musicians, casting them in a golden glow as their shapes shifted and moved to ready their instruments. Taking a sip of his drink, Husk swiveled back around and rested his arms upon the bar, ready to settle in and wait it out. He glanced up into the mirrors just as a spotlight snapped to life, aimed at the curtains just as they began to slowly draw apart. 

The opening of the curtain widened even further and he realized someone was there. At least, it looked like someone was there but fully concealed by a mound of pink feathers. The mass shifted, swelling and contracting like a breathing entity under the spotlight. He took another drink, watching the delicate downy barbs waver and dance with even the slightest movement. 

So, the final act was going to be a fan dance? Those had been very popular once upon a time, a form of striptease from a bygone era up top. A flicker of a memory tried to catch in the back of his mind. A theater’s darkened rafters, audience laughter, a sharp elbow nudging him, pale yellow feathers and glittering costume jewelry. The fragmented memory prodded at him like an irritating finger, wanting to be noticed but he drowned it out with a more generous sip of his Old Fashioned. He shuddered as the alcohol chased the threat of recollection away, rotating partially in his stool to watch the stage from the corner of his eye. He needed a distraction after all. 

The saxophone player broke the silence with a jazzy ascension of notes and just like that, the resting mass of feathers fully came to life. 

A long leg slowly slid out from behind their cover, easing a black boot into sight until it was lying stretched out on the stage. At first Husk didn’t think anything of it as the rest of the band began to ease their way into the song, backing up the soloist. The music was staggered, stilted at first. It was meant to entice the listener, not to simply accompany whatever was happening in front of them and from the stillness among the crowd, it was working. 

The performer exposed another leg, extending it out slowly and then drawing in once more, crooking it in a single beckoning motion before their heel rested on the stage floor, knee still bent. Husk took another look at the boots. Nice pair of legs. Long, slender and they looked…familiar. 

To the lead of the saxist’s song, an arm raised up, holding aloft a feathered fan, rotating their wrist to make the feathers weave and flutter in a practiced arc over their still mostly concealed form. Husk raised his drink up for another sip, getting about a mouthful before they tilted their head out from their wall of feathers and into view. They were full profile to the crowd as they arched further and further back, long strands of voluminous pale pink hair pooling in soft curls upon the stage. 

One look at the dolled up face and he suddenly realized why he recognized those damn legs. 

He choked on his drink that he had barely even started to swallow, spraying it all over the stool beside him and some of the bar top. 

“Wha-What the fuck?!” he spluttered, a paw clutching at his burning throat. 

There, on the Diamond Lounge’s stage was Angel Dust in the midst of a fan dance. He turned his head to look towards the crowd, a smirk on his lips as a whistle from an eager onlooker pierced through the music. He lifted his leg that had been on the floor, rotating himself and pointing that limb out as he guided it slowly around. He stopped while pointing the toe of his boot dead center towards the crowd, lowering his leg as he tucked in his other limb beneath him so that as he rose to his feet, he twisted away from them in the same motion. 

“What’s he doing here?!” Husk hissed, wiping traces of bitters and wasted alcohol from his mouth as he slammed the old fashioned glass back onto the bar beside him. 

Reggie snickered. He had avoided the spray because he was seated on Husk’s other side but he had certainly witnessed the embarrassing reaction. “He’s the main attraction. That’s why you see so many asses in the seats.” 

Main attraction, sure, whatever, but why in hell was he here at The Glitz? This place wasn’t under Val’s thumb. Casinos weren’t a part of that asshole’s scene! So why would Angel Dust, Hell’s number one porn star, be dancing burlesque here? Also, Angel never said anything about doing a gig like this. Kid would normally find any excuse to crow about a change in his typical work flow to him after a long day at the studio but the fucker never said a word! 

Angel was starting to move across the stage now. He was shifting the fans with care, easing them along his body to ensure it was still covered through every moment, lifting one to twirl out to the side or passing it over his head. Every step was deliberate and he didn’t even bat an eye at the whistles that accompanied him in his dance to the saxophone’s lead. He clicked his heels on the stage, kicking one leg out and sweeping the feathers of a fan up the length of it. He lifted his shoulder in a coy gesture, his blacked out eye winking at the crowd before Husk noticed the slightest shift in his gaze and he froze in place. For a split second, Angel’s eyes widened. It was so quick he probably would have missed it if he blinked but he caught the surprise, however fleeting it was. Angel was looking right at him now, still moving to the music. He saw him. He knew that he was there. 

A wicked grin split Angel’s lips and Husk pressed his wings a little further back into the bar. He felt pinned under that damn stare before he was finally relieved when Angel turned away. The feathers closed around him as he put his back to the crowd. Slowly, so damn slowly, they parted to some excited cheers as Angel exposed his back. He was naked from the waist up, his only clothing a scrap of black lace that one could generously call underwear with sheer garters that stretched down to the stockings barely peeking from the tops of his thigh high boots. The contrast of the black material against his white fur did their job in drawing his eyes to his tiny ass. Husk felt heat rising in his face the longer he stared, finally averting his gaze when Angel gave it a little wiggle. The cocky bastard was peeking at him over his shoulder and he caught sight of him cheekily sticking his tongue out before closing the feathers around himself again. 

Slinking across the stage in the opposite direction now, Angel hid behind the plumage of his fans again, switching one to a lower hand and sweeping it out to the side, exposing a glimpse of his hip and then bringing it back in to circle the other around his head, his eyes once again staring Husk down. He lifted his head a bit, cocking his brow and with that smug-ass smile on his painted lips, silently dared him to chicken out. To look away. The challenge fed Husk’s stubbornness. He forced himself to slump back on his stool, folding his arms across his chest and sagging back against the bar. It was as disinterested a pose he could muster when he felt wound tighter than a fucking drum under that knowing stare. 

“Fuck. You.” He mouthed at him but Angel only smiled wider, looking triumphant while Husk felt more and more like a jackass with each passing second. He had been completely taken in. 

Angel danced the routine like it was meant to be danced, he would give him that. He teased them with a glimpse of a thigh here, a bare shoulder there, all the while the feathers did their job of keeping his “modesty” until he deemed the audience worthy of a peek. Just like it used to be done. Husk had seen dances like this before and he had to give Angel credit for keeping to the traditional method rather than just blatantly showing the goods and make some fancy moves with the fans. This method was planned and rehearsed but made to look effortless and sensual. Well, it certainly was sensual. 

Husk grabbed his drink from where he had slammed it onto the bar before and drank the rest down in one go. He didn’t look away from Angel and he had a feeling Angel wasn’t letting him out of his sight either. His tie was starting to feel too tight. Angel brought in the fans to his sides, rotating them down and exposing some of his chest while his lower hands stroked along his belly and up into the soft tuft of fur, cupping at it and trailing one hand to his neck, closing his eyes bringing his head back as if in ecstasy while the other lower hand lingered over his fluff. 

His whole body felt warmed over, the opposite of a cold chill but just as jarring at the sight of Angel’s expression. He hastily waved down one of the bartenders while hastily fishing around in his pocket with the other. He slammed a bill onto the bar top and ordered a whiskey. He braced his arm on the table, digits open for the glass to be slid into his hand while glancing back at the stage, his skin burning beneath his fur as Angel slid his hands back down his body and out of sight again. He elegantly swung his arms across himself and then, as the saxophone climbed its range to mark the finale of the song, he opened his arms to expose all of himself to the crowd at last and the room burst into applause. 

The band milked the last notes of the song to the cheers of the onlookers. Husk finally felt the glass in his claws, snatching it up and downing it in record time. Angel swung the fans behind himself and tucking the stays close to his back, the pink feathers splaying out on either side of him like a pair of wings. He gave the wings a gentle flap, eyes locked on Husk with a knowing grin flashing that gold tooth of his. 

Husk tightened his claws around the empty glass. 

Sweeping the fans out, Angel made his bow to the whistles and cheers of the crowd. He strutted away from them, feathers up and flared out just above his ass like a damn peacock before the curtains closed and the crowd was left to peter out of the applause on their own after a few minutes. Chatter started back up and Husk finally put his back to the stage, hiding his face with his paw and groaning into his palm. He barely registered that Reggie was talking again until his flattened ears finally cocked in his direction. 

“I’ll round up the boys and we can get started on that game.” Reggie slid off of his stool. 

“Forget it, Reg. I’m out.” Husk sighed, still leaning into his palm. 

“You sure? After all your bitching earlier, you’re going to opt out?” Reggie finished his barely touched bourbon, sliding the glass further onto the bar. 

“Yeah. Tell the guys they can keep their money tonight.” Husk peered between his claws, fixing Reggie with a glare. “But I’m not holding back next time.” 

“I’ll let them know.” Reggie wasn’t fazed by the glare. Frankly, Husk didn’t care that it didn’t bother him either. He had just spent the last several minutes wound up tighter than a spring and rather than uncoiling and lashing out, he found himself practically exhausted and more than a little flustered. He closed his eyes pressing his face into his paw pad. He didn’t even growl when Reggie touched him “See ya, Husk.” 

“See ya, Reg.” was all he managed to get out as Reggie squeezed his shoulder then headed for the tables to collect the guys. 

Without Reggie to distract him, his thoughts lingered on Angel Dust’s dance. Every moment replayed in his mind, Angel’s smirk, watching the feathers sway with his every move, the weightless barbs coil and weave, shivering when they trailed over the fine fur of his limbs. He remembered the way Angel’s lower hands roamed over his own body, whether people could see it past the fans or not. This wasn’t a raunchy climb up and down a pole in a rain of singles. Angel put care into this routine and he wanted to look good doing it. And damn him again if he didn’t look so fucking good tonight. 

He should have left the Glitz after that. He should have flown back home and locked himself in his room with a bottle of the cheap shit and his own self loathing for the night. Should have, would have, but didn’t. Instead, he found himself walking down a back hallway, eying bouquets of flowers with names of different performers from the show scribbled on cards. The more flowers he passed, the more memories of a life that was long gone niggled in the back of his mind. Dozens of flowers and a smiling face as well as a gentle laugh. A woman’s voice tried to explain to him the meaning of every bloom in the old blue vase she held. 

Husk closed his eyes, shaking his head to dislodge the thought. When he opened them again, the memory was gone but he still reached out and touched a pink rose nestled among one of the gifted bouquets. 

Humming drifted down the hall from one of the doors of the performers’ dressing rooms. He knew what Angel sounded like when he hummed. He hummed when he was feeling confident. It didn’t happen as frequently as Husk felt it should, exposing Angel’s façade for what it was long ago, though no one seemed to catch on to this. He found the door, looking up at a piece of paper taped to the wood with “Angel Dust” written in shaky printed letters. Masses of red and orange roses were nestled in tripping hazards around the base of the door and along the base of the wall. Romance, desire…he remembered what those flowers meant and rolled his eyes before balling up a fist and thumping the side of it upon the door. 

The humming stopped and after a moment, Husk heard the clicking of heels on the other side of the wood. He tried to relax, tried to remember that he had talked to him dozens of times before this but something was off tonight. He felt on edge, nervous, which was the last fucking thing he needed to feel around Angel Dust of all people. Was he ashamed? He took in the orange roses and guilt bubbled up in his stomach, making him feel sick. Desire. Yeah. He had desired him. Wanted him. Which made him no better than anyone else. 

The door squeaked, pulling Husk from his own thoughts. It swung in just a bit as Angel checked through the crack. He had removed the wig and his hair was still tousled, his make-up still in place but at least he was wearing a short burgundy robe that was half-heartedly tied shut at his waist. His appearance, however, wasn’t what Husk noticed once he opened the door. Angel’s eyes were up high, checking cautiously through the opening with his body tense as he checked a spot of wall higher than Husk’s own head. After a moment, he dropped his gaze down and spotted him standing there. His expression turned sly and the tension eased out of him as he opened the door wider. 

“Well,” Angel folded both sets of his arms and leaned into the doorjamb. “I’m used to getting some action after a show but I gotta say I’m surprised to see you’re first in line for it, Husk.” He glanced down at Husk’s paws at his sides and put on an air of mock offense. “What, no flowers? I’m insulted!” 

“Shut up!” Husk hated the near stammer he almost struggled through as he pointed a claw at him, “You know that’s not why I’m here ya fuckin’ pervert!” 

Angel laughed, stepping back into the dressing room and waving him inside. “Couldn’t help myself. Still, some flowers would have been nice.” 

“Here’s your fuckin’ flower!” He pressed his hands together then pulled them apart, revealing a long-stemmed pink rose that he held out to him. Angel’s eyes widening at the simple magic trick. 

“Holy shit.” 

He took the flower, impressed and Husk brushed past him into the room. It was smaller than he thought they would give such a well known celebrity but Angel seemed to make it work with only stage essentials stocked inside, his day clothes were lying on the edge of a trunk and the wig from his performance was already mounted on a wig head with a large pin stabbed through the top to hold it in place. A bristle brush was sitting out on the vanity where a plump little stool was pulled out. Angel must have been preparing to brush out his fur before changing clothes when he had knocked on the door. 

“So, what brings ya back here, Husk?” Angel asked, taking his flower to the vanity and sitting down on the stool with one leg crossing over the other. The short robe parted, exposing a thigh and the sheer garters he had seen on stage. There were spider webs embroidered on the damn things because of course there would be! “I know you’re not here for a quick fuck.” 

He jerked his attention away from his leg, shooting a glare at Angel, who feigned innocence with a smile that was far too wide to be convincing. 

“I wanted to talk to you about the show.” He murmured as he moved over to the trunk bearing Angel’s clothes. He pushed them a little further over and sat down since it was the only other seating available in the room. 

“What about it?” Angel slipped the rose into a tall vase that looked too big for one flower. There was water still in the bottom of it. Glancing further over, Husk could see a jumble of damp stems sticking out of the trash on the far side of the vanity. Why would Angel would throw away flowers from an adoring fan? He didn’t understand, nor did he really care. “Since when did you start working at the Glitz?” 

Angel shifted on his seat, picking up a comb and the base of his wig head, setting it in front of himself. He rotated it so the hair draped down over the edge of the vanity and parted off a section of fibers. He started to work the fingers of his lower hands thorough the strands, gently loosening the larger tangles that were notorious in long-haired synthetic wigs while holding it stationary with one of his upper hands. 

“Val knows the owner of this joint.” He explained as he kept his hands busy. “He owed them a favor so he loaned me out to them for a couple of weeks in order to bump up business a little. I wrap up in a few days and then go back to business as usual at the studio.” 

He shrugged his shoulders, trying to pass it off as no big deal but Husk hadn’t missed his wording. 

“’Loaned’ you?” He baited, giving him an opening to vent if he wanted to take it. Angel’s hands slowed and he sighed, glancing at the folded feather fans hanging folded up on the wall beside the mirror. Setting the comb down, he folded both sets of arms across his body. 

“It’s nothing Val hasn’t done before. You should know that better than anyone by now.” He grumbled, almost petulant before he waved a hand dismissively. “He told me to get my ass down here and report to the head honcho for further instructions. When I got here, the guy told me that I needed to class up my act if I was gonna work in his casino. The burlesque show what already in the books so I negotiated with their manager and, bam, given a spot as the final act.” 

“Negotiated, huh?” Husk doubted the negotiations were done with many words. 

Angel stuck out the tip of his tongue past a sharp-toothed smile. “I can be very convincing.” 

They chuckled a little together. This felt better. It was a normal kind of interaction between them now, fueled by months of late night banter across a bar. At first Husk wanted nothing to do with the hotel or its first redemption case. He was irritated by Angel’s come-on and Alastor’s abuse of power to make him work as a glorified bar tender when they never had any guests. It took time, but the residents were slowly growing on him the longer they all lived together in the hotel. Redemption was a pipe dream if he ever heard of one but he couldn’t find the heart to tell Charlie that anymore. He almost wanted them to succeed, for her sake. 

Angel Dust was also becoming more tolerable to him. He cut down on the flirting, making Husk satisfied in the thought that whatever interest he may have had in him in the beginning must have died off by now. Granted, there were still moments when he would say something suggestive and Husk would shoot it down in the plainest way possible. Even with that not changing, he was getting more and more embarrassed every time Angel made such suggestions recently. Especially tonight, when he was giving him fucking bedroom eyes across a crowded room and kept watching him through the whole damn performance! 

Angel leaned forward, folding his lower arms on top of his crossed legs while resting his upper hands on either side of the stool. Husk caught the movement out of the corner of his eye, raising his gaze in time to see Angel give him a once over. It was slow and it was lingering. And damn him thrice over if he didn’t feel every second those eyes trailed over his body, almost as if he were actually touching him. He felt more naked now than he ever had before in his afterlife. 

“You clean up good, Husk.” 

What must have been white-hot embarrassment under his scrutiny suddenly fizzled out when he heard how casual the remark had been. It was a compliment that sounded completely genuine. 

“Thanks,” he grunted as he smoothed his paw over the length of the tie. Angel’s eyes followed the downward stroke of his paw and Husk hastily moved it back to the trunk again, clearing his throat. 

“I was surprised to see you here tonight.” He propped an elbow on his knee and leaned his chin into his palm. 

“I was supposed to be playin’ poker.” 

“Really?” Angel’s brows rose. “Well, why aren’t you out there cleaning up at the tables right now?” 

“I’m not feeling it tonight. Besides, I wanted to check in on you and ask about the show.” Husk shrugged, lying through his teeth because he didn’t even know why he was there himself. “So, yeah. now that I’ve got my answers, I guess that’s it.” 

“I guess so.” Angel shrugged a shoulder tugging the robe to cover his thigh with one hand, another crossing over himself and grasping at his upper arm before he nodded his head. It was a rather vulnerable gesture, almost as if he were…disappointed? 

Standing up, Husk cleared his throat, ready to make his excuses and duck out of there before he felt even more foolish. He shuffled towards the door, lingering at it before he turned and looked back at Angel. He was facing the vanity again, eyes on the lone rose in its vase until he caught him looking through the reflection of the mirror. Angel straightened a bit, cocking an eyebrow at his delayed departure. 

“What time do you head out of here?” 

In the mirror his eyebrows rose before Angel twisted around to look at him full on. Husk scratched a bit at the back of his neck under Angel’s scrutiny again. After a minute, he reached over and plucked his phone from where it was sitting on the corner of the vanity, checking the lock screen. 

“I got an hour before Val sends someone to pick me up.” The confusion on Husks face must have been more evident than he thought because Angel huffed a sigh and continued. “He doesn’t want me to get too cozy here. Thinks this place might go to my head or somethin’. So, he sends someone down here to take me to the hotel or back to the studio to check in with him.” 

“Controlling motherfucker.” They both grumbled, stopping and exchanging knowing smiles. 

“Well, get some clothes on and I’ll buy you a drink.” Husk jerked a thumb back in the general direction of the door to the dressing room. “After that, tell Val's errand boy to fuck off and I’ll take you home.” 

Angel’s eyes grew wide as he stared at him. Husk arched an eyebrow, wondering what it was he said that had inspired such a look of surprise. He had offered him drinks before, made them and silently passed them to him on rough nights when he didn’t want to talk and merely sat at the bar, trying to live by his example for an evening and drown the past out with booze. On those nights, Husk either drank with him until he passed out or stayed sober enough to haul Angel upstairs to his room and dump his drunk ass in bed. Those nights were rare but he remembered every one of them with too much clarity for his own comfort. 

Blinking rapidly, Angel seemed to snap out of it. He tilted his head to the side, a smirk slowly pulling up the corner of his mouth. “Home?” 

Husk realized what it was he said now and felt white-hot embarrassment flush through him, even his ears had to be on fire at this point! 

“The ho-you know what I mean!” He snapped, Angel bursting into a full belly laugh at his flustered state. “Quit your cackling! It aint fucking funny!” 

He gradually brought it down to a fit of giggles, wiping tears from his eyes with the backs of his hands. He nodded his head, taking a deep breath and sighing out what Husk hoped was the last of it. His eyes were still glassy from his tears but all of the mirth seemed to finally have gone out of them. 

“Ok. I’ll take that drink.” He huffed, still a touch breathless. He ran a hand over his hair, cupping his hands around the back of his neck, his expression softening. “Give me a minute, will ya?” 

“Sure. I’ll, uh, wait outside.” He indicated the door, moving to open it and let himself out of the room. 

“Hey, Husk?” Angel called, stopping him before he could step out. 

“What now?” 

Angel’s lower hands were twisting together a bit while the upper arms rest on his knees. He faltered, nodding back to the fans with his head. “Did ya like the show?” 

Husk raised his eyes to the fans, remembering where those feathers had touched, whey they had stroked and tickled. He inwardly fired off a litany of curses at himself for where his mind was starting to go these days but maintained his mask. 

“The saxist is shit…”Angel rolled his eyes at the comment. He eased the door shut again, turning back to Angel and approaching his stool. He watched him come closer, sitting a little straighter as he neared. Husk looked down at him thoughtfully. “But, you looked pretty good up there, kid.” 

He reached out a paw, Angel watching it extend towards him before looking up into his face, setting his hand over his open palm. He curled his claws in slightly, leaning down. Locking his eyes with Angel as he moved, he slowly bent over the hand and kissed the back of it, feeling the brush of the fine fur against his lips. 

“Damn good.” 

The hands stopped twisting and he visibly relaxed, the softest sigh escaping his lips as he nodded his head, his face the picture of pure relief. “Thanks.” 

Straightening up Husk let him draw his hand back and returned to the door. He opened it up and moved into the hallway, looking back over his shoulder at Angel, noticing that he was absently holding the hand he had just kissed. Husk cleared his throat, averting his eyes as he grasped the edge of the door to shut it after him. 

“Hurry it up, ok?” 

Angel's voice sounded a little off when he spoke but Husk resolutely kept his attention on the hallway as he heard, “You got it.” 

Pulling the door closed, Husk leaned back into the wood, keeping the long sigh that escaped him silent. He didn’t know what came over him, what made him kiss Angel’s hand like some kind of gentleman. He wasn’t a fuckng gentleman! Still, he had liked it. He liked the tiny gasp that came out of Angel’s mouth when he kissed him, the warm weight of the hand cradled in his. Clutching at the space where a heart used to beat, Husk resisted the urge to slide down onto the floor. He needed to move, needed to get a fucking grip on himself before Angel finished up and caught him out here acting like this. 

Lightly thumping his head back into the door, he thought back on what he said. 

_“I’ll take you home.”_

Husk opened his eyes, staring blankly ahead at the wall across the way. He didn’t see the white plaster. He saw Charlie striding towards him, waving a clipboard over her head triumphantly, Vaggie close behind with her arms folded but eyes soft on her excitable girlfriend. He saw Nifty darting across the hotel lobby, chasing down a roach with a gleeful giggle that borderlined chaotic. In front of them all, he saw Angel Dust sitting across the bar with a fruity drink in one hand, Fat Nuggets in his lap and a cocky grin stretched wide on his infuriatingly beautiful face. 

His chest warmed the longer he lingered on that thought, claws slipping into his fur and feeling the concealed ridge of his scar. 

“Home, huh?”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it, Seely!


End file.
